Future Shock
by James Bow
Summary: Sequel to The Grandfather Paradox. Ron and Hermione's son, Wesley, adapts to his new life at Hogwarts.
1. Wesley Adapts at Hogwarts

Future Shock By James Bow 

**Author's Note**: To understand what's going on, and who Wesley is, you need to have read the Grandfather Paradox as this story is a direct sequel. Enjoy!

Chapter One: Wesley Adapts at Hogwarts 

"Pencil!"

When Harry opened the door to the dormitory where Wesley slept, he found the boy hunched over his small writing desk, tapping something with his staff (now shrunk down to wand size).

Wesley hit the desk again.

"Pencil!"

Nothing happened. Wesley hit the desk again. _"Pencil!"_

Frustrated, he smacked his desk several times with his wand.

"Pencil! _Pencil!_ Stupid quill! Pencil dammit!"

"Wesley!" Harry exclaimed. "Don't let your mother hear you using that language!"

The boy whirled around. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "Sorry, Harry. I didn't hear you come in."

"Homework problems?"

Wesley motioned to his desk. "Transfiguration. I've made some progress. The quill's got an eraser at least."

"I'm surprised it's not broken in several places."

"Yeah, well," Wesley huffed. "Transfiguration isn't easy. I don't see how they can give it to first years. Everything else is going fine; you watch, I'll be caught up to your year in all of my classes next September, except for Transfiguration. I could be in my seventh year, and the best I could hope for from Transfiguration would be in my third, if that. How do you do it?"

Harry shrugged. "The first thing you've got to do is relax. You want the spell to work too much."

"Shouldn't I want the spell to work?"

"Of course you should, but you can't force it. It has to happen naturally. Relax a minute, and try it again."

Wesley turned back to his desk, closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Then he lowered his wand. "Pencil," he breathed. There was a flash. He opened his eyes.

Before him sat a furry pencil. Wesley nodded. "Not bad."

"Not bad at all," said another voice behind them. Harry and Wesley turned, and saw the Weasley twins at the door.

Wesley grinned. "It's uncle Fred and uncle George!"

The Weasley twins scowled.

"I hate it when he does that," said George.

"Just keep up the tally," said Fred. "One more prank to play on Ron in retribution."

Wesley motioned them to one of the beds. "What are you two still doing here? Haven't you graduated? Or is your joke shop running itself?"

"Oh yes," said George.

"All invisible helpers, of course," said Fred.

"We've got cameras set up to catch the expressions of our startled customers," said George.

"Wouldn't be a joke shop without jokes," said Fred.

George's face turned serious. "Mum told us to stay at Hogwarts until the Christmas break, to keep an eye on Ginny."

The levity drained from the room. "How is she?" asked Wesley.

Harry looked away.

"You know as much as the rest of us," said George. "She seems happy enough to me. Hermione's told us that she's had nightmares, though."

"She's not the only one," muttered Harry.

"But that's not why we've come to your dormitory, Wesley," said Fred.

Wesley looked at them, curious.

"Mum wants all the family back at the Burrow for Christmas," said George. "She emphasized _all_ the family."

Wesley swallowed hard. "You mean she knows about me?"

"Wesley," said Harry. "I don't think there are many who don't know about you."

"And do you think we'd pass up the opportunity to tell Mum she's a grandmother?" asked George.

"Especially if we could say that Ron's the father?" Fred put in.

Harry's jaw dropped. Wesley winced. "Poor Ron!"

"We explained things before she sent off the howler," said Fred.

"So, will you come?" asked George.

"You're invited too, Harry," said Fred.

"And Hermione's coming," said George.

Fred frowned at his brother. "I haven't invited her yet. Did you?"

"No, Ron will," said George.

"Ah, yes! This is Ron we're talking about. Ever since Wesley announced that he was their son, the two have become inseparable, insufferable and shameless."

"They're snogging in the common room, right now," George added.

"Really?" said Wesley. He got up from his desk. "Come on, Harry. We've got classes. And I think I can knock one Ron-prank off of George and Fred's tally."

Wesley strode into the corridor, with Harry, Fred and George following curiously. He slowed as he approached the stairs to the common room and crept down, not making a sound. Then he pressed himself against the wall and looked out.

Harry, Fred and George stepped behind him and looked. There was the common room, empty save for Ron and Hermione, sitting in a padded seat intended for one person.

"Nice to see them getting on," said Fred.

"Definite potential, here," said George.

"Especially if I do this," said Wesley.

He pushed away from the wall and strode into the common room. There, he stopped and gasped. "Mum! Dad! My impressionable eyes!"

Ron and Hermione broke apart like north-to-north facing magnets.

Fred, George and Harry fell into the common room, doubled over with laughter.

"Wesley!" Hermione grabbed one of the seat cushions and started beating Wesley about the head with it. Fred and George pulled Wesley away and swept him to the portrait and out of the common room.

As they ran away, Harry could hear Hermione huff. "Well! I know which side of the family _that_ trait comes from!"

***

In Potions class, Wesley sat beside Harry next to the aisle in the same row with Ron and Hermione. He watched attentively along with the rest of the students as Snape discussed their assignments.

"In front of you, you all have what you need to make a batch of Selesionarlo Potion, a noted restorative, to be taken for medicinal purposes only." At this, Snape fixed Seamus with such a stare that the boy couldn't help but look guilty, though he hadn't done a thing. "It may be optimistic of me to expect that you have studied the recipe last night as I told you to, but I have no choice but to trust you. So, pair up and get to it. I will be watching."

With that, the class set to work, with Snape keeping a watchful eye over the Gryffindors. The Slytherins worked away without his notice.

Ron and Hermione gathered around their shared cauldron, so Harry turned to Wesley. 

Wesley smiled. "How about I handle the ingredients?"

Harry nodded. "Sure." They set to work, and soon the two were gagging on the billowing steam.

Harry worked at the potion with the precision of a surgeon, calling for ingredients, which Wesley handed to him. "Clipped talon of Peruvian Fire Eagle."

Wesley pressed the cup into his hand.

Harry measured out a small spoonful and dropped it into the cauldron.

"Dragon scale shavings."

Wesley handed over a small glass bottle. Harry fished out four shavings and dusted them into the cauldron.

"Axel grease."

Wesley handed the can over. "Careful. It's sticky."

"Thanks," said Harry, adding a drop and handing the canister back. "Shredded Mandrake."

Nothing came over.

"Shredded Mandrake," Harry repeated. Then he looked up. "Wesley?" 

Wesley was staring across the aisle at Draco and Crabbe's cauldron, frowning. His eyes widened as he saw Draco ladling the potion into a goblet and bringing it to his lips.

Wesley jumped across the aisle and knocked the goblet from Draco's lips and onto the floor. The contents spilled out and smoked on the stone.

The whole class gasped. Draco looked down at the mess, too shell shocked to say or do anything. For a moment, Wesley stood in the aisle, unsure what to do next. Then he felt a shadow fall over him. He looked up at Snape and swallowed hard.

"Explain yourself," said Snape.

"I couldn't let Malfoy drink that potion," he replied.

"And you're suddenly expert enough in Potions to decide to make a mess all over my floor?" said Snape.

The classroom was completely silent. The Slytherins didn't even snicker.

"Crabbe knocked an entire container of shredded Mandrake into his cauldron," said Wesley. "There was ten times the safe level in the potion Draco was about to drink!"

Harry saw Draco grow even more pale than usual and sit down shakily.

"Do you take me for a complete idiot?" Snape growled. "Do you think that I don't have the potions to cure Mandrake overdose right here in this classroom; right on hand?"

"Not without him undergoing several minutes of pain, first. To counteract overdose levels that high requires several goblets of antidote."

Snape glared. Wesley glared right back. The rest of the class stared in a mixture of horror and awe.

"So," said Snape, finally. "You think you know enough about Potions to take matters in your own hands in my classroom?"

Wesley said nothing.

"We shall see about that." He turned and strode to the back of the classroom and into his office.

Wesley stood staring. He cast a glance at Harry, who shrugged. Behind them, his classmates began to murmur. Now some of the Slytherins chanced a snicker, but nothing came from Draco's row.

Snape strode back, his arms full of cauldrons and ingredients. He set these on his desk and organized them into two sets of bottles and boxes, with a cauldron on either side. "Step forward, Mr. Grange."

Wesley stepped to Snape's desk and stood opposite him, the two lines of ingredients between them.

"We will now make a potion," said Snape, "and see who completes it first. For this test, we will be making Veritaserum."

Wesley's eyes widened. "But, sir, you don't learn Veritaserum until seventh year!"

Snape stared at him. "Actually, we don't teach it at Hogwarts at all. It's only supposed to be taught at the Auror academy. But since you have some advance knowledge, you should do well. On my mark, begin."

Snape immediately set to work sorting out the ingredients and dashing them into his cauldron. He glared at Wesley, who hadn't moved, and the boy jumped to work. The class stared as the two prepared their serums, Snape with quick but smooth moments, and Wesley at a slower, more methodical pace. Then there was a small flash in Snape's cauldron. Wesley froze. He was several ingredients behind.

"Oh, very good, professor!" said Wesley.

Snape glared at Wesley, ladled some serum into a goblet, and passed it across the desk. Wesley sniffed the cup nervously, then downed it.

"Right," said Snape. "My first question. Did you deliberately delay adding the ingredients into your Veratiserum?"

Wesley's eyes went wide, but he answered immediately. "Yes."

"I knew it! I knew you were holding back!" snarled Snape. "You threw this contest, didn't you?"

"Yes," said Wesley, who immediately grimaced.

"Ten points from Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindors stared, mouths agape. Wesley stood astounded, and lost his control. "What do you _want_ from me?" he yelled.

Though it was hardly possible, a greater hush descended upon the classroom.

Harry heard Neville mutter, "He's trying to get himself killed!"

Snape just stared at Wesley. "I want you to treat me with the respect I am due as your professor, and that means complete honesty. I will not teach students who deceive me as to the extent of their skills. We will retake this test, and if you hold back again, I will take another ten points from Gryffindor. Now, go!"

Wesley sighed, and positioned himself by the desk while Snape retrieved two fresh cauldrons. Then Snape was ready, and said, "Go!"

Wesley leapt at the ingredients, working ambidextrously, without taking any time to measure. Harry couldn't believe it, but he swore that Wesley's hands started to blur.

A flash and a large puff of smoke enveloped Wesley. When it cleared, the boy stood, arm outstretched, offering his goblet to Snape. Snape was twelve ingredients short.

Snape stared. Then he set down his unfinished serum and took the goblet. With a final glare, he downed it in one gulp.

There was a moment's silence.

Then, Wesley asked. "How is it?"

"It's good," said Snape at last. "Very good. As good as any I could make." His glare did not match his words, and Harry could see that the potion was having its effect.

"Why don't you want me here?"

"You don't need to be in this class," the professor replied. "The only thing I dislike more than a someone that holds his talent back is someone who has fame placed on them before they've earned it." At this, his glance shifted momentarily towards Harry. 

"Now, what do you think?"

"I think you're no longer holding back."

"And Harry?"

Snape glared. "Mr. Potter is proving his mettle." He turned away. "This class is dismissed. You will all clean up your assignments while I retire to my office." He stepped around Wesley, who stood like a statue, and walked to the door. There, he paused, and added, "Ten points _to_ Gryffindor."

When he left the room, Wesley let out his breath and sagged like a deflated balloon. Harry, Ron, Hermione and the other Gryffindors crowded around him.

"Are you okay?" asked Neville.

"I've never seen anybody show up Snape like that!" said Seamus.

"I thought you'd be expelled for sure!" gasped Lavender.

"_Are_ you okay?" asked Harry in a low voice.

"Yeah," said Wesley. He swallowed.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" gasped Ron.

Wesley waved the crowd back. "Come on, everybody, let's not stand around. Let's get cleaned up. After this, it's Christmas holidays."

The Gryffindor crowd moved away and gathered their cauldrons and ingredients. The Slytherins had already started to leave. As Wesley moved back to his seat, he stopped short when Draco stood up, the last to leave his seat.

The blond-haired boy gave Wesley a perplexed stare before turning away and striding out of the classroom.


	2. Wesley Adapts at the Burrow

Chapter Two: Wesley Adapts at the Burrow 

On the Hogwarts Express, Harry shared a compartment with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred and George and Wesley. They entertained themselves by playing exploding snap, but he could tell that Wesley wasn't really into the game. Most of the time, the boy sat close to the window, staring at the countryside rushing past.

During a lull, when Fred and George went to find the snack trolley, Harry sidled up to him. "Nervous?"

Wesley jerked up and shot Harry a look of surprise. "Is it that obvious?"

"Yes," said Ginny.

"Absolutely," said Hermione.

"Sorry," said Wesley.

"Don't apologize," said Ron. "The first time Mum meets her grandson? I can only imagine the things that are going through your mind."

"How do you think I feel?" said Hermione. "Hello, Mrs. Weasley, I'm the girl who's destined to be your daughter-in-law in ten years time, and here's your grandson!"

"I can just see the sleeping arrangements now," said Ron. "Me in the attic, you in the basement, and Bill, Charlie and Percy on the stairs in between."

Hermione snorted. "Poor Bill, Charlie and Percy. Still, there's always the drainpipe."

Wesley sighed. "I just hope she likes me."

Harry patted his shoulder. "Come on, how could she not?"

Ron frowned. "Didn't we take you to meet Mum when you were growing up?"

"Oh, yes," said Wesley. "Every Christmas. But this is different. Well, you remember how you felt when you found out I was your son. Your mother is a far more imposing person to have alarmed at you."

Harry patted his shoulder again. "You'll be fine."

Wesley sighed. "You're right. Besides, it does me no good brooding about it. Deal me in this round."

***

At King's Cross, the students trooped off the train, Harry and his company looking up and down platform 9 3/4rs expectantly. Mr and Mrs. Weasley were not in sight, however. Wesley, Harry noticed, stood at the edge of the group, looking both frustrated and relieved that they weren't immediately met. Ron and Hermione shared similar expressions.

Then Ginny caught sight of someone, and lit up. "Bill!"

A red-haired young man came running and grabbed up Ginny and swung her around. "Ginny! How are you? How is everybody?"

There was a chatter of greetings and introductions. Bill explained, "Dad's back at the Burrow, helping Mum put together the Christmas feast. I get to take you back home in our new car."

Harry blinked at him. "You got a new car?"

"With our old mode of transport running free in the forbidden forest?" said Bill.

Harry flushed at this.

"Come on!" Bill waved them towards the barrier. "I'll introduce you!"

After passing through the barrier one by one, under the careful eye of the conductor, they regathered themselves and their bags and headed out of the station. They stopped short when Bill indicated the parking space.

"I don't believe it," said Ron.

"Did Dad install a space-making charm?" said Ginny. "Because, if not, we're going to have to take several trips."

Bill nodded. "We'll all fit."

Wesley stared at the white 1969 Volkswagon Beatle. "We'll look like a troop of circus clowns getting in and out of that thing!"

George stared. "Does Mum know about the spell?"

Fred shook his head. "The gall of that man! Mum's going to kill him. Well, now I know where we got our tenacity!"

"Come on," said Bill. "Just shove in your trunks when nobody's looking."

They managed to get everything and everybody inside the car without attracting any attention, and soon Bill was behind the wheel, navigating the small car through the busy streets of London, then onto the motorway, and out into the countryside. Space-making charm or no, it was close quarters in the back seat, with Hermione having to sit on Ron's lap, Ginny on Harry and, not to be outdone, Fred on George. Wesley rolled his eyes and stared out the window. Everyone chattered excitedly, but through Wesley smiled and made helpful comments occasionally, Harry noticed that he spent most of his time following the passing countryside.

Finally as the sun set, the Volkswagon Beetle pulled off the country road and up a dirt track. Passing a line of sheltering trees, the ramshackle but comforting edifice of the Burrow rose up before them, festooned for Christmas. Bill put the Beetle into the garage and everyone clambered out. Leaving their trunks in the car, the Weasleys and Hermione ran up to the front door, which was thrown open as they approached.

Harry hesitated, and wasn't surprised to see Wesley holding back. He gave the boy a smile, patted his shoulder, and gently, but firmly, led him up the front steps. When they stepped inside to a house that smelled of gravy and baking, Molly and Arthur Weasley were already in the front foyer, greeting their children.

Mrs. Weasley's voice rang out through the hall. "George! Welcome back! And Fred! And Ron. Welcome home! Hermione Granger!" Here, Harry thought he heard her falter, but she kissed the girl and hugged her so hard, Hermione grunted. "Welcome." Then she turned to Harry. "And Harry! Welcome back!"

Harry winced. Mrs. Weasley's kiss was extra sloppy. 

Mrs. Weasley fussed over Ginny a moment before finally turning to Wesley.

A silence fell over the foyer. Mrs. Weasley stared at the boy in front of her. Wesley stared back and shifted on his feet. The silence lengthened uncomfortably.

"Well," said Mrs. Weasley at last. "You _are_ a Weasley, even if you don't have the hair. You're the very image of Ron. This is almost like seeing a ghost."

"I know how you feel," Wesley muttered.

Mrs. Weasley opened her arms wide. She smiled encouragingly as Wesley hesitated. "Come on," she said. "Welcome to the family."

Wesley stepped forward. All the air left him painfully as Mrs. Weasley clamped her hug closed, but he held on tightly.

And so began the feast of Christmas Eve. All the children were drawn deeper into the house and were pressed with numerous chores. Hermione and Ginny prepared the table. Harry and Ron got plates. Fred and George set out the presents, and tried to get underfoot without incurring the wrath of their parents. Wesley was kept in the kitchen, near Mrs. Weasley, and brought the food to the table. That took several trips. However, the uncomfortable silence remained in the kitchen, even though the rest of the household was filled with laughter and chatter. 

Hermione stopped at the door to the kitchen and nudged Harry, who was nearest, to a halt. She nodded inside with a look that made Harry inspect the scene. Wesley was chopping beans, while Mrs. Weasley fussed over the gravy. Grandmother and grandson cast uneasy glances across the kitchen when the other wasn't looking.

Wesley's eyes also strayed from the beans. He wasn't paying attention to them at all, though he cut them deftly with the sharp knife, stopping before the blade got dangerously close to his fingers. He glanced over each cupboard, and lingered on the breakfast table, his expression tinged with sadness.

"Hey, Wesley!" Fred came charging through the kitchen. "Come help us decorate the tree!"

Wesley glanced at his grandmother, who gave him a smile and nodded. Setting the beans aside, the boy followed Fred out of the kitchen, brushing past Hermione and Harry, his eyes moving over the familiar furniture, his smile wistful.

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other, frowning.

***

An hour later, dinner was ready. Mrs. Weasley called to the family, who came bounding to the table. Everyone ooo'd and aw'd at the spread. There was a feast to rival any at Hogwarts. Everyone took their seats, and Arthur Weasley said a brief grace. Then everyone set to work getting ready to eat.

"We've made some Christmas crackers for the occasion!" Fred brought out a box from beneath his seat. 

Ginny groaned. "If you blow up our Christmas dinner, I'll never forgive you, Fred Weasley!"

"No!" said George. "We'd never do that! We'll pull our own cracker right alongside everyone, won't we, Fred?"

"Absolutely," said Fred. "And, Wesley, as you are our honoured guest at this table, you should make the first pick." He held the box out to the boy, who was sitting beside him.

Wesley peered at the box suspiciously. Then, sorting through the paper packages, he caught sight of one he liked, smiled, and pulled it out.

Fred stared at the box, and then at Wesley. "You're sure you want that one?"

"Yes," said Wesley, a smile playing across his lips.

Fred kept staring. "You're sure? That particular one?"

"The only green cracker in a box full of red ones?" said Wesley, smiling brightly. "Absolutely that's the one I want. And since you've given me the first choice of crackers, I think you and Fred should be the first to pull one apart!"

Fred's smile was now looking a little forced. "No, we wouldn't want to spoil other people's fun."

"I think that's a very good idea," said Ginny. "Now that Wesley's picked his cracker, you go first."

George rose from his seat. "Why don't I check on the Christmas pudding?"

"Oh no you don't!" said Ron, forcing his brother back into his seat. "I insist."

"So do I," said Hermione.

"We all insist," chimed in Bill, Charlie and Percy.

Fred and George swallowed hard. Then, taking one of the red crackers between them, they closed their eyes and leaned as far away as they could.

There was a loud bang, and a big puff of smoke. It made Hermione, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley shriek, but it did no damage. A stuffed toy appeared out of nowhere and fell to the floor.

Harry stared, his eyebrows raised. Then he grabbed another red cracker and pulled it apart with Ginny's help. Another loud bang that did nothing but rattle the windows, and a wooden train engine dropped to the floor.

The rest of the family snatched up the remainder of the crackers. The dining room resounded with many explosions, and shrieks of delight. Wesley stared at his green cracker, his frown deepening. Then he realized that everyone was looking at him expectantly.

He gave Fred and George, who were now grinning at him, a sidelong glare. "Would you like to pull this apart with me?" he asked.

"Oh, no," said Fred, holding up his hands. "I've already pulled apart a cracker with George."

"Harry?" Wesley turned the cracker to him.

"Get that thing away from me!"

Wesley sighed in resignation, and took both ends of the cracker. "Oh, well. Here goes nothing."

Fred and George dove for cover.

"No, wait!" Mrs. Weasley squeaked. "The Christmas dinner!"

There was a small pop, and no smoke. A stream of confetti rolled out of the cracker and caught Wesley full in the face. It continued, impossibly, for several seconds before dying down. Wesley had glittering flakes stuck to his cheeks, scattered in his hair, and sitting in a big pile on his lap. The Weasley family gasped in amazement.

"You played me," said Wesley slowly, as Fred and George regained their seats, shaking with laughter. Wesley began to chuckle. "Oh, you really played me!" His chuckles grew louder, and then he burst out laughing as the others joined in. "That was bloody brilliant!"

"You two boys are going to clean up this mess, you realize?" said Mrs. Weasley, her severe tone marred by her own chuckles.

Hermione glanced at Wesley, and then stared. The change in the boy's face was amazing. The worry lines were gone from his forehead, his mouth was open, and his eyes were wide and twinkling. She saw Ron in every shake of his shoulders. It was the first time she'd seen him so relaxed and open.

***

After passing out eggnog and opening their presents, a Weasley family ritual that Wesley participated in peripherally, the family broke up to the various rooms of the Burrow, to enjoy their loot, and to rest in preparation for an evening out to skate. Harry and Hermione watched as Wesley took his glass and stepped out into the garden, unnoticed by the rest.

"I'm going to talk to him," she said.

"Want me to come with you, or get Ron?"

"No, I think this is a job for just the mother," she replied. Then she winced. "I can't believe I just said that."

"Don't be too long," said Harry. "Mr. Weasley said something about heading out in half an hour." Hermione nodded and followed Wesley out of the house.

Wesley had stepped off the back porch and was standing in the grass in the middle of the garden. Snow was just starting to fall. He glanced at the flakes in wonder, and stared up at the clouds.

Hermione stepped off the back porch and cleared her throat.

Wesley turned and stared at her. "Hi."

"Hi," she replied. After a moment's hesitation, she stepped to his side and stared up at the falling snow with him. Finally, she said, "Wesley, why are you always walking on eggshells?"

Wesley didn't answer.

"I'm not just talking about here at the Burrow, with your grandparents, and all of your aunts and uncles all at once. I'm an only child, Wesley, I know how overwhelming large families can be. But it isn't just at the Burrow. I was just thinking that, ever since I've seen you, you're always so tense. You're always surrounded by a cloud, even when you laugh. The only times I've seen you really laugh is tonight, when we joked about parenthood in the common room that first night we found out about you, and when you tease Ron and me. Why won't you open up more?"

Wesley stared at her. Hermione stared back. "It's just not easy," he said at last.

"But Wesley, everybody knows who you are, now," she said. "You have a family ready to take you in. You have friends who really like you, and who I think you really like, when you let yourself. You don't need to be so cautious around us. Stop being like Harry!"

Wesley blinked at her. "Harry?"

"He's so unsure of himself sometimes. Between what he went through in his Muggle life, and the shock of his fame in the Wizarding world, a part of him doesn't think he belongs where he is when he's at Hogwarts. "

"But, Mum, I _don't_ belong where I am."

Hermione didn't flinch at being called Mum. She glared at her son. "Well, just like Harry, you're here now, and you can't go back, so make the best of it!"

"I'm trying!"

"Don't try so hard, just do it!"

"Or else, what? You'll put me over your knee and give me a good spanking?"

"Don't think I won't!"

Wesley stopped and stared. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as Hermione fought to maintain her glare. She held it for a good thirty seconds before she burst out laughing. Despite himself, Wesley laughed too.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," said Wesley. "It just takes a lot of getting used to. There is a lot I have to hold back."

"Why?"

"I may have a place here thanks to you, Ron and everybody, but some of my knowledge doesn't. Have you any idea how difficult it is running thorough a list of spells each time I have to use one and trying to remember what was invented more than twenty-five years before my time and what wasn't? Snape sensed that I was holding back, and you saw how he reacted."

Hermione nodded. "But that isn't all that's bothering you, is it?"

"What is it about mothers and their telepathy?" Wesley sighed. 

"Well?"

Wesley shifted on his feet. The silence dragged for minutes. Finally, the boy said, "Ghosts. I'm seeing a lot of ghosts." He shivered.

Hermione turned him to her and gave him a hug. He held her tight, her breath uneven in her ear.

"It hasn't happened," she said. "It won't happen."

"I won't let it happen," he replied. "But it still happened to me."

Hermione pulled back and held him at arm's length. "Just keep telling yourself: it's a blank slate. It's all new. You can do it."

He nodded. "I will. Thanks, Mum." And he hugged her again.

"We'd better hurry up," she said. "I think the Weasleys are heading out the door for skating."

"I didn't pack any skates," said Wesley.

"They rent. You go tell them to wait up for me."

Wesley smiled and turned back to the house. At the steps to the back porch, he stopped and shivered.

There was a rush of wind. Wesley froze. Then he looked around. There was something wrong with the silence.

"Hermione?" he called.

No response.

He turned. The back garden, walled in by hedges, the Burrow, and a closed gate, was empty. 

"Hermione? Mum?"

A parchment fluttered to his feet. Wesley picked it up and began to read.


	3. Hidden Messages

**Chapter Three: Hidden Messages**

"Come on, Ron!" shouted Harry outside the bathroom door. "I think the everybody is leaving already!"

"Well go on yourself, then. This is taking longer than I thought to wrap."

"What could you possibly be wrapping inside a bathroom?"

"Hermione's special Christmas present."

A silence descended across the door. A moment later, Ron yanked open the door and glared at Harry. "Not what you're thinking!"

Harry stared back. "If you say so!"

"Come in and see it if you like!"

Harry held back. "Are you sure?"

Ron grabbed his wrist and yanked Harry inside.

The conversation continued behind the bathroom door.

"Well, what do you think?" asked Ron.

"Two things," said Harry. "One, Wesley's presence here has made you entirely shameless, and two, Hermione's going to kill you."

"No, she won't!"

"Oh, yes she will!"

"It's a perfectly good gift! Open it up and have a look if you don't believe me!"

"Oh, no! I'm not touching Hermione's lingerie, I'm-"

"The box is a joke, you idiot! Fred's idea."

"Fred would probably think it funny if Hermione killed you."

"Open it!"

There was a rustle of paper. "Perfume?" said Harry at last. There was a pop of a bottle opening. "Forest Lily. How sweet! But Hermione is going to kill you before she opens the box."

"I can beg for my life convincingly."

"And Wesley has made you entirely shameless."

"I'll have to remember to thank Wesley someday. Here, hold the ribbon down while I tie the bow."

There was more paper rustling, and then the bathroom door opened. Ron scampered out and hid the present under his bed.

Harry stopped short at the landing, listening to the silence of the house. The sound of a departing Volkswagon was on the edge of hearing. He scowled. "Ron! They left without us, you git!"

Ron came out from his room, staring at Harry seriously. "I know."

"You did that deliberately?" Harry yelled in disbelief. "Why?"

"Because, we don't want you and Ginny together until we talk to you separately," said Ron. "We had a family conference."

Harry spluttered.

"Let's go down to the kitchen," said Ron. "Mum suggested milk and cookies."

Harry followed Ron into the kitchen and stood staring while Ron prepared the snacks, and set two glass and two plates on the table. Harry didn't sit down until Ron did, and he kept staring until the boy could delay no further, and had to speak.

"Harry, we know how you feel about Ginny," said Ron, diving in. "It's no secret. Even You-Know-Who-" Here, he stumbled, but he pressed on, "He knew exactly how to hurt you the most."

Harry looked away. "You want me to stay away from your little sister?"

"No!" Ron exclaimed. "We're happy for you and her, although Mum things you two are a little young." He rolled his eyes. "Honestly, at our age, we're perfectly legal to… Anyway, we're okay with you and her. You're like family already. But… Ginny's gone through hell. And so have you, many times over, but never with her… conscious."

Harry shivered and looked away.

Ron twisted a napkin in his hands. "They should have had Percy do this. He'd be better at it. But he's the one talking to Ginny."

"What's he telling her, you think?" Harry muttered.

"Look, you know Ginny's having nightmares," said Ron. "But Hermione told me that she's not just having nightmares about herself. She's having nightmares about you."

"Me?" Harry stared at him.

"Ginny talks in her sleep. She keeps saying… She's afraid of what you'd do because of her."

Harry couldn't think of anything to say. Ron couldn't help him. The silence weighed upon them before Ron found the strength to break it.

"I think, the worst thing you two can do is avoid each other, right now," he said at last. "That would be a victory for You-Know-Who. Hermione thinks that you two should be careful. Ginny's a minefield of hurt, and I can only imagine what you're like with all you've seen. A false move could be a disaster for both of you. The rest of the family agrees with the both of us."

"I find it creepy that you'd have a family conference about me," said Harry.

"Look, all that we're saying is that we know that you two can… help each other," said Ron. "We also know that if things go wrong, you two could hurt each other even more. So, we just want to tell you: go for it. But go slow."

Harry nodded solemnly. "I will."

"And, for God's sake, don't ever let me catch you snogging her."

Harry grinned. "No worries."

Both boys breathed a heavy sigh of relief, and drained the last of their milk. After putting their plates and glasses in the sink, they stepped into the hallway.

"Has everybody left?" asked Ron. "Hermione was going to stay behind, so that she and I could… do some studying."

Harry let that comment slide. He was looking around the house, listening hard, frowning. "No. She was here with me when I went up to get you. She'd gone to have a heart-to-heart talk to Wesley. Plenty of those going around the house, these days. She can't have left so quickly. Maybe they went together?"

"No, they haven't gone out," said Ron. "Their boots are still here." He pointed to the shoe-rack by the front door.

"Wesley?" called Harry. "Hermione?"

"Where did they go?" Ron muttered.

"Maybe they're still in the back yard, but neither of them took their coats."

"Let's have a look out the window to see if they're still talking."

They went to the living room and peered out into the dusk. The snow was starting to accumulate over the grass. Hermione and Wesley's slippered footprints showed up as dark impressions against the snow. Ron sagged back down on the couch. "Poor Wesley has so many problems."

Harry kept staring out the window. "Ron?"

"I can hardly imagine it," Ron continued. "To have both your parents killed, and then to be suddenly pulled into a life that you know nothing about." He frowned. That did sound familiar, now that he said it out loud.

Harry prodded Ron's shoulder. "Ron, look at this."

Ron turned around and followed Harry's stare into the back yard. "Harry, what's so important about a set of footsteps in the back yard?" he demanded.

"Have another look," said Harry. "Two sets of footsteps leading out into middle of the yard. None coming back."

Ron looked. Then he bolted from the window and ran out the back door. "Hermione! Wesley! Where are you?"

Harry followed him and stopped at the back porch.

Ron dashed around the yard, calling their names. He looked at the back gate, but no footsteps led there. The pathway to the front was also clean. "Hermione!"

"Ron?"

Ron pulled apart the bushes, and jerked his hand back when one of the gnomes nipped at him. "Ow! Hermione!"

Harry was still standing on the back porch. "Ron, are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay!" he shouted, rounding on him. "Other than the fact that my girlfriend and future son have gone missing from my family home, everything is just fine!"

Harry stared at him. "The reason why I'm asking is because your shoes are on fire."

"What?" Ron looked down. Sparks danced around the soles of his shoes. "Yow!"

He jumped about, trying to put out the sparks, not noticing that they did not burn his feet. They left an impression on the ground which glowed yellow. Finally, Ron jumped onto the back porch and stood, gasping. Harry stared at his footprints on the snow. "You've left letters behind."

In the trodden snow, words sparkled. Ron stared. "This is one of Wesley's tricks."

"First. Spell. On. Me," read Harry. "First spell on me. Have you any idea what that means?"

Ron frowned in thought. "If that's Wesley talking, then the first spell - the only spell - I used on him was-" He snorted. "Of course. Aparecium, the poor man's Veritaserum that renders invisible ink visible."

"Let's try it." Harry pointed his wand at the ground. "Aparecium!"

The snow flared. Letters, about six inches in height, began to glow. The words scrolled across the garden from the back hedge to the porch. Harry started reading.

"'Ron, our Voldemort has kidnapped Hermione and told me to come to him immediately if I want to see her alive. He told me to come alone.'"

"Is he nuts?" Ron cut in. "Doesn't he realize it's a trap?"

Harry read on. "'Yes, I know it's a trap.'"

Ron snorted. "Oh, great, and he goes anyway. Alone. Good thinking, Wesley!"

"Stop interrupting me," said Harry. He turned back to the letter. "'I know precisely why he wants to see me. I have analyzed the port key that Voldemort told me to use. It's designed to self-destruct after I use it, but I've figured out where it leads. The parchment that has just appeared at your feet gives you directions on how to send help. Be careful, won't you? And don't dawdle. Sincerely, Wesley.'"

Ron shook his head and started to say something, but Harry held up his hand. "Wait, there's more. 'P.S. Voldemort made it quite clear that he'd kill Hermione if he caught whiff of 'treachery', so be extra discrete.'"

Harry picked up the paper that had appeared at his. "It's all here. And he says he's put us some distance away so we can sneak up on Voldemort's hideout. What should we do?"

"Rescue Wesley and Hermione, of course," said Ron. "What else?"

"What about telling everybody else where we're going?"

"It could be hours before they come back," said Ron. "Anything can happen in that time. We'll leave these directions for Dad, and he can send help after us. But we have to go now!"

Harry nodded. "I'll leave a note." He darted back into the house.

"Hurry up!" Ron shouted after him.

Harry grabbed a piece of parchment from the kitchen table. Scribbling on it, he placed it with Wesley's directions on the parlour door and held both pages in place with a magnetizing charm.

"Harry, come on!"

Harry stepped back, staring at what he'd written. "And don't dawdle," he muttered under his breath. Then he turned and ran to join Ron in the backyard.

When Harry was by him, Ron activated the port key.

A rush of wind caught at the bushes and kicked up swirls of snow.

Then the Burrow stood empty.


	4. At Voldemort's Hideout

**Chapter Four: At Voldemort's Hideout.**

The moment Wesley stepped out of the Port Key, he grabbed his wand, gave it a shake, and transformed it into his staff.

"Here I am," he muttered beneath his breath. "What now?"

"Now you are my prisoner," echoed a voice around him. "_Petrificus Partialus Bodium!_"

Wesley's arms jerked to his side. His staff clattered to the floor. He fell hard on his back, his legs rigid. He could look up, however, and he strained his neck to look around, but could see nobody.

Then the voice said "_Wingardum Leviosa!_"

Wesley rose into the air and floated forward, feet first down the corridor. He turned two corners before settling down in the middle of a gigantic chamber. Seated at the end was Voldemort.

Voldemort gave a low laugh. "Well, if it isn't Future Boy!"

Wesley could do nothing but glare. He could move his head and his mouth (which he kept clenched shut) but every part of him below his neck was as rigid as though it were in a Full Body Bind.

"Amazing," said Voldemort. "A Full Body Bind that leaves the prisoner free to talk. Most useful for interrogation. It was the only spell Wormtail remembered during my future self's trip to this time. A shame that, but I understand. The spell was quite hard to learn, and I'm afraid I made a few mistakes along the way."

Voldemort snapped his fingers. "Wormtail, I believe this young man may be thirsty after his long trip here. Give him some water, will you?"

A shape loomed into Wesley's vision and pulled the boy into a sitting position. A cup was pressed to Wesley's lips. He drank, and as he did so, he looked up at Wormtail. He choked and sputtered, and sprayed Wormtail from head to toe.

Wormtail glared, but said nothing. He couldn't. Where his mouth should have been, the skin of his face below his nose was completely smooth and unblemished.

"The surgeon will cut him a new mouth in the morning," said Voldemort. "Unless you want to save him the trouble. Perhaps you know the mistake I made, and have a counter curse to cure it. I'd be most interested in finding out, although the silence is appreciated."

"What do you want?"

"You know what I want," said Voldemort. "If you have an ounce of intelligence, you will have figured out what happened since you last left Wormtail. I had just woken up. I found his battered body lying unconscious. I revived him, and extracted a most fantastic tale from him. One that was a little hard to follow, even for me, and harder still to believe."

"Then why am I here?"

"Because I believe it," said Voldemort. "Time travel spells may be beyond my comprehension, at the moment, but the implications are certainly not beyond my imagination. I've looked into your background. You haven't any. Beyond what cover Dumbledore has constructed for you at the Wizardry Census Bureau, you don't exist. Or, rather, you don't exist, yet. Coupled with Wormtail's memories of the events during my most unnatural sleep, I can only conclude that you are a visitor from the future, sent back in time to prevent your present from going awry. Therefore, you know the future."

"I don't know the future," said Wesley quickly. "I've already prevented it. Everything from this moment forward is a blank slate."

"I know," said Voldemort. "Such a pity. However, you are still a product of your history. You remember things from your past, what could have been my future. You know some very powerful spells that no one else does. I want you to share that knowledge."

"This won't do you any good," said Wesley, forcing a laugh. "I've already told Dumbledore everything I know. Whatever curse I give you, he knows how to counter."

"Ah, maybe he does, but what about the rest of the Wizarding world?" asked Voldemort. "Has he told them?"

Wesley said nothing. Voldemort chuckled.

"I know Dumbledore too well. I'd wager he told you that the world isn't ready for these advanced spells. I know he's taking flak for his stance at the Ministry of Magic, or so my contacts tell me."

Wesley stared in astonishment.

Voldemort continued. "If I knew a fraction of what Dumbledore must know now, I'd wreak havoc on the Wizarding world no matter what Dumbledore did to interfere. The ironic thing is, I can just see him refusing to use his newly learned spells as a matter of principle. His principles will be the death of him; someday soon, I hope."

Wesley glared.

***

Harry and Ron walked carefully through the cave-like corridors, keeping to the shadows.

"No guards," Harry muttered. "I would have expected this place to be crawling with Voldemort's men."

"Gift horse, mouth," Ron muttered. But he nodded. "This is a completely different place from Voldemort's last hideout. Perhaps he's still keeping a low profile, moving from place to place. Too many guards would attract attention."

"So, tomorrow, Voldemort could be somewhere else," said Harry. "No wonder they can't catch him. It would be so much easier if he had a dark tower."

Ron perked up. "What's that?" Before Harry could say anything, he rushed out of the shadows and grabbed something off of the middle of the floor. "Wesley's staff! He's here, all right, but he's been taken."

"Ron, be careful," Harry hissed.

Then Wormtail strode around the corner.

The two boys stared in horror, first at being discovered, and then at Wormtail's lipless face. Wormtail stared back in utter astonishment, and tried to shout for help, but all he could do was hum.

Without thinking, Ron rushed forward, swinging up Wesley's staff. It caught the man cleanly under the chin, sending him sprawling to the floor.

Ron dashed after him, and laid a solid blow across Wormtail's temple.

Harry caught up with him. Ron swung again. _Whap!_

"I think he's unconscious, Ron," said Harry.

_Whap! Whap!_

Harry winced. "Now I'm sure."

_Whap! Whap! Whap!_

"Ron, you're starting to scare me."

_Whap!_

"Just making extra sure," said Ron, hoisting Wesley's staff and glaring down at Wormtail. Then he nodded, satisfied. "Come on," he said, treading on Wormtail's stomach as he walked down the corridor. Harry jumped over the limp body and followed.

They moved back into the shadows in the next corridor, and their pace slowed. They heard voices up ahead, and a light was shining beyond the next bend.

***

Using only his eyes, Wesley looked around at the part of the chamber he could see. It echoed with emptiness. "Why aren't your Death Eater minions here for this?" asked Wesley.

"I like to be alone," said Voldemort. "Besides, I want to be quite sure of these spells before I entrust them to my lackies."

"Very wise," said Wesley brightly. "People should never handle advanced spells without proper training. We're talking months, maybe years. Perhaps you should consider taking a few safety courses yourself. Indeed, why take the risk at all? Just carry on as before with the huge collection you already have. You seem to be doing enough damage as it is."

"I disagree," said Voldemort. "I'm a firm believer in embracing new things. It would be such a shame to let these new spells exist in obscurity. What Wormtail was able to remember suggests to me that we have a fine few years of Wizarding advances ahead of us. Some of the things he told me my future self was able to do is just remarkable. For instance, the trick of binding the redheaded brat and putting the Cruciatus curse on her intrigued me greatly. The Cruciatus curse and the Full Body Bind interfere with each other too much; you put on one, you end up taking off the other. And you can't walk away from the current Cruciatus spell without relinquishing it. These new versions have potential. You may not think it of me, but after a while, one gets tired of hearing 'oh god, oh god, it hurts, it hurts, the pain, please stop, please stop' and all the other screams. It grates on the ears, especially those who have high-pitched voices. Now I can have my prisoners suffer in silence."

Wesley shook his head. "I'm not going to help you."

"Oh, well. If I can't charm my prisoners into suffering in silence, I'll have to use other methods."

He snapped his fingers. Lights came up and shone into the corner beside Voldemort's chair. Wesley stared in horror.

Hermione was chained to the wall, her mouth sealed shut with tape.

"I may not have that special Cruciatus curse, but I can make do," said Voldemort.

He raised his wand at Hermione. The girl's eyes went wide.

Voldemort paused, and looked at Wesley. "You know the price for stopping me."

Wesley's mouth went dry. "Voldemort, if I told you what I know, I'd be betraying a lot of people. I'd be betraying people who aren't even born."

"If these people aren't born yet, what do they care?"

"To me, they'd care."

"Well, I don't. So tell me, or your mother will be in excruciating pain for the rest of the night. I can stay up for that."

"Voldemort, please, just let her go."

Voldemort shook his head. "_Crucio!_"

A blue light shot Hermione straight in the chest. The girl strained against her chains and screamed through the tape. Then, all at once, Voldemort released the spell. Hermione had been under for less than five seconds, but she still leaned against her chains, her eyes wide, breathing heavily.

Wesley was white as a sheet. "Voldemort, please-"

"Your choice, Future Boy. Think of it as long term pain for short term gain."

Behind Voldemort, Harry stepped silently out of cover. He nodded at Wesley and gave a quick wave before ducking back behind the rock. Wesley watched this, moving only his eyes. He refocused on Voldemort.

Voldemort was still staring, his wand trained on Hermione. "If you're still having trouble deciding, let me say that the tape over her mouth is optional. I could make the same 'mistake' on her as I did on Wormtail."

Wesley winced. He looked up. "All right. I'll tell you what you want to know."

Hermione shook her head and yelled against her gag, but Voldemort ignored her. "Excellent! What do you have?"

"Well…" Wesley thought hard. "I have a spell that causes debilitating anger."

"Perfect! How does it go?"

"Well, it's more than a ritual than an incantation," said Wesley slowly. "You start by drawing a circle in the sand."

"Really? Like this?" Voldemort drew a circle with his wand.

Behind him, Harry and Ron slipped from cover and, keeping close to the wall, tiptoed towards Hermione.

Wesley looked back at the circle Voldemort had drawn. "Larger," he said. "About three feet across."

"Like this?"

"Exactly."

"Then what?"

"Put crosses at the four points of the compass around the circle."

Wesley grimaced the moment the words left his mouth. Humming in thought, Voldemort looked around the cave. Harry and Ron dove for cover just in time.

Voldemort clucked. "There are disadvantages to living underground." He concentrated a moment, and finally drew the four crosses in place.

Harry and Ron snuck out from behind their rock, crossed another open area and dove for cover again, closer to Hermione.

"Like that?" Voldemort looked at Wesley, pointing to the four crosses.

Wesley nodded. "Now, circle each of your crosses with a tight spiral opening out to about a foot away from the northern end of each cross."

Voldemort drew in the sand.

Harry and Ron tiptoed out of cover and crossed the last open area to hide behind a protruding rock close to where Hermione was chained up. The girl stared at them in astonishment, but didn't make a noise.

"Done," said Voldemort.

"Now, this is the most important part," said Wesley. "You stand at on the cross furthest from me - yes, that one - and you face into the circle."

"Like this?"

Harry and Ron chanced a glance over the cover of the rock. Wesley caught sight of them, and nodded. "Not quite," he said to Voldemort. "A little to your left, and face more towards me."

"Like this?"

Voldemort's back was to them. Harry and Ron stepped out of cover. Hermione didn't squeal when Ron pulled the tape from her lips. Harry whispered _Alohomora_ and caught the chains as they fell limp, so they wouldn't make a sound.

Behind them, Wesley continued. "Now, this is the ritual. Follow it exactly… you put your right foot in."

"Like this?"

"Yes. Now, you put your right foot out."

"Okay…"

Harry picked up Hermione's wand, which had been at her feet, as Ron hauled her behind the cover of the rock. He ducked down beside them.

"Then you put your right foot in," Wesley continued.

"I see…"

"And you shake it all about."

"Like this?"

Watching from behind the cover of the rock, the colour drained from Hermione's cheeks. "Oh, no!" she whispered.

"What?" whispered Ron. "What's he doing?"

"He's going to get himself killed!" gasped Harry.

Wesley smiled at Voldemort. "And you do the hokey-pokey and you turn yourself about."

"You're making fun of me, aren't you?" said Voldemort.

"Yes," said Wesley brightly. "And most people would have figured that out before I mentioned 'hokey-pokey'. You're awfully slow."

"Why you, little…!" Voldemort spluttered in rage. 

"We have to do something now," said Ron.

"Wesley's not leaving us much time," said Hermione.

"Patronus," said Harry. "All three of us."

"Will that work against you-know-who?" said Ron.

"We have to try!"

They watched as Voldemort stood before Wesley, seething, choking, and then slowly raising his wand. "Crucio!"

The binding spell vanished, replaced by the Cruciatus Curse. Wesley curled up on the floor, clawing at the air and screaming at the top of his lungs.

Harry, Ron and Hermione jumped up, their wands raised. "Patronus!"

Voldemort was thrown across the room.

As soon as the Cruciatus spell broke, Wesley rolled up, grabbed his staff from Ron's hands, and swung it at Voldemort. "_Petrificus Partialus Bodium!_"

A look of shock crossed Voldemort's face as his arms and legs went rigid and he flopped onto his back.

Wesley breathed a sigh of relief, and then crumpled. Harry, Ron and Hermione rushed forward to catch him.

"Are you okay?" asked Ron.

Wesley shook the cobwebs out of his head. "That _really_ hurts."

"Wormtail!" Voldemort yelled. "Get in here, now!"

"Wormtail won't be helping you for a while, yet," said Ron. "He's probably still unconscious where we left him."

Voldemort started to spit out a curse, but stopped when Wesley hoisted his staff. "I wouldn't," said the boy.

Voldemort chuckled. "You can't kill me. I know you've tried, but you're not powerful enough."

Wesley glared at him. "I can still hurt you."

"Oh, yes, you can. Just remember, though, that I'll have my ear open for every single new curse you try, and unlike Wormtail, I have good hearing and an excellent memory. I'll be adding each one to my collection."

Wesley hissed in frustration.

"What do we do?" whispered Ron.

"We've got to get out of here," said Hermione. She still hadn't caught her breath. "His followers can't be far away."

"Back to the Port Key," muttered Wesley. "I kept it from self-destructing. Then, when we get back, I know a few extra shielding charms that might be useful for the Burrow."

"Let's go," said Harry. Grabbing Ron and Hermione by the hands, he darted into the corridor. Wesley stood as rearguard until they were safely away, and then he ran after them.

Voldemort struggled against his bonds.

In the corridor, Wormtail was just starting to move when Hermione tripped over him. She stared at his dazed, lipless form and shuddered. "Who knocked him unconscious?"

"I did!" said Ron.

Hermione smiled. So did Ron. Harry tugged at their hands. "Come on."

"No, wait," said Wesley. "This is the Port Key."

Motioning for the others to stand back, Wesley raised his staff and muttered a spell under his breath. Harry couldn't quite catch it, but he was sure he'd never heard it before.

The Port Key flared into life. A breeze tugged at their robes.

Wesley motioned the others forward. "You three, in. I'll follow. Once I'm throw, then it will self destruct."

Harry, Ron and Hermione wasted no time. They vanished into the Port Key.

Wesley made to step through, but then he hesitated. Turning, he bent close and put his hand over where Wormtail's mouth used to be. "_Condrolzee!_" he muttered.

Wormtail gasped when he realized that he could. He flexed his jaw and licked his reformed lips. He stared at Wesley in astonishment as the boy stepped back and vanished. The Port Key exploded in a brilliant flash of light.

"Wormtail!" Voldemort's voice echoed through the corridors. "Get somebody to get me out of this body bind!"

Wormtail stared towards the voice.

"Wormtail, get back here!"

Wormtail turned away, lay back and closed his eyes.

"Wormtail!"


	5. Epilogue: Distant Thunder

**Epilogue: Distant Thunder**

"WERE YOU OUT OF YOUR MINDS?"

Ron and Wesley stood in the centre of the Burrow's kitchen, heads bowed against the wrath of Molly Weasley.

"DID YOU TAKE LEAVE OF YOUR SENSES?"

Harry and Hermione stood at the doorway, excused for their guest status, and for the fact that Hermione had been kidnapped. They both looked like they felt they should be in the center of the room with the two boys.

"WHAT ON EARTH POSSESSSED YOU TO JUST JUMP HALFWAY ACROSS THIS COUNTRY TO CONFRONT THE DARKEST OF ALL THE DARK WIZARDS?"

"Hermione needed help," Wesley muttered.

Mrs. Weasley's glare softened in spite of herself. She lowered her voice to a grim monotone. "And your first thought was to go off, alone? You didn't think of telling someone what had happened?"

"Voldemort did say that I had to come," said Wesley. "Mum-Hermione was kidnapped because of me."

The anger drained from the room, leaving plenty of tension behind. Frustrated, Mrs. Weasley turned her attention to Ron. "And you, what's your excuse? Going off after Wesl-your so-him!" She jabbed a finger at Wesley. "Did you even think of telling someone what had happened?"

Arthur Weasley cleared his throat. "Molly, dear, the boy did leave clear instructions on how to follow him."

"Did you send people?" asked Wesley before Mrs. Weasley could retort. "Did they find anything?"

"Only a dark cave showing signs of having been recently abandoned by the Death Eaters," Mr. Weasley replied.

"So, they did move on," muttered Harry.

Mr. Weasley looked at his wife. "Molly, let's revisit this after breakfast. It's late, and the children need their sleep, though I fear they won't get much."

The anger left Mrs. Weasley entirely, making her look weary and gaunt. "I suppose," she said with a sigh. A flash of her fire returned to her eye for a second as her gaze returned to Wesley and Ron. "But don't think this is the end of this!" She stormed off, scattering Fred, George and Ginny, who had been listening from the stairs.

"We'd better go to bed too," said Hermione, stepping forward. She hugged Wesley and then, taking Ron's hand, allowed herself to be led upstairs. Harry stared in astonishment when Mr. Weasley didn't comment.

"Sir," said Wesley to Mr. Weasley.

Mr. Weasley chuckled. "Please, call me granddad."

"Granddad." Wesley stumbled over the word. "When I spoke to Voldemort, he said something to me about Dumbledore. Is he really in trouble from the Ministry of Magic?"

Mr. Weasley suddenly became very interested in the parlour door.

"Granddad, am _I_ in trouble with the Ministry of Magic?"

Mr. Weasley turned to him seriously. "You're not in trouble. At least not with me. Neither is Dumbledore. He has enough of a history of good decisions behind him for most of us at the Ministry to respect his choice. Some can't quite understand his reasoning, that's all. Nothing to worry yourself about."

He shifted on his feet, and then headed abruptly for the kitchen door. "Don't stay up too late."

Harry and Wesley stood alone.

Harry looked from Wesley to Mr. Weasley's departing back and raised his eyebrows. "I hear milk and cookies are good for moments like this."

Wesley stared at him. "What?"

But Harry just patted his shoulder as he turned away and prepared two plates and two glasses. He motioned for Wesley to sit with him at the kitchen table. The two ate their midnight snack in silence.

"Why can't you tell us what you know, Wesley?" asked Harry at last.

"Because Dumbledore thought it wise," the boy replied.

"Do you think it's wise?"

"Yes."

Harry chewed his cookie. "After all that Voldemort did?"

"Yes."

"With all that Voldemort knows?"

"Yes!"

Harry raised his hands for silence. Then he asked in a low, patient voice. "Why?"

Wesley took a long sip of his milk. Finally, he said, "Imagine for a moment that a time traveller set himself down in the middle of the Spanish Civil War. Let's say he decides to change history. Who'd begrudge him that? It's what I did, after all. But let's say that he says to the Monarchists fighting against Franco's Fascists: 'I know what to do. I can build you an atomic bomb. You can use it on your enemies and secure your country for the next fifty years.' Leaving aside the stupidity of actually using an atomic bomb in a civil war, let alone for any reason, let us assume that all he wants is to save lives over the long term. Let us say that he's successful, and that Monarchists win, and democracy flourishes decades before it would under Franco's regime. He may have saved millions of lives, but at what cost?"

Harry just stared at him, eyebrows raised.

"In the analogy, the genie's out of the bottle," Wesley continued. "He's saved Spain, but he's brought back technology from the future in order to do it. The scientists of the era, they're not stupid: they could analyze the blast sites if they had to in order to figure out how to build the atomic bomb faster. England could get it years before the Americans actually did, and so could Nazi Germany."

Harry winced.

Wesley nodded. "The fewer people who know what I know, the less chance that my knowledge will be misused."

"It won't end here," said Harry. "Voldemort knows who you are and what you can do. He'll throw everything at us rather than risk what you can do."

"We all knew war was coming," said Wesley. "We all knew Voldemort was powerful and full of hate. Is he so much harder to beat now that he might be afraid as well?

Harry sighed. "You're probably right. But when war does come, we'll need something to beat him. Something big."

"Dumbledore may know what to do then," said Wesley. "Advanced spells or no, we do have the equivalent of a Muggle atomic bomb. I just hope we don't have to use it."

With that, he drained the last of his milk and slipped off his chair. He stepped out of the room, leaving Harry to his own thoughts.

**END.**


End file.
